


Family Circus

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:50:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magneto and his brood attend family therapy, run by a terribly unhelpful Mystique.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Circus

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Implied MPREG. (Yes, really.) Random: The file name for this is "mystiqueisroger" because in my head, Mystique loves her disguises as much as Roger from "American Dad" loves his.

Mystique's mansion is not difficult to find, though Charles is more than a little hesitant to leave his car parked on the side of the road in the present neighborhood. He locks the doors with the key fob and steers his chair away warily, wondering whether he should have sucked it up and asked Logan for a ride.

Toad opens the door. He doesn't say anything, but Charles follows him dutifully down a short hallway, past chipped paint and debris that makes the house look both lived in and decrepit, arriving briefly in what he assumes is Mystique's private office. Magneto, dressed down, for once, is already there, as are his children, Wanda and Pietro. Charles nods at them all as he pulls his chair up next to Magneto, and also at Mystique, dressed in her school principal disguise.

"Now that everybody's here," Mystique says after a moment, "we can begin. For the purposes of this exercise, you can call me Dr. Darkholme."

Charles sighs, his patience already worn thin for the day. "You're hardly qualified to be a therapist, Mystique. Anyways, you're not a doctor."

Mystique's eyes flash. "I suppose you think you have some moral precipice to stand on just because your students come to you for abortions and diet pills, Charles."

"I'm not that kind of doctor, either," Charles responds automatically, though in truth, he does get some rather strange requests. Still annoyed, he glances Mystique up and down. "You're awfully petulant today. Are you on your period, then?"

"That's a horribly misogynistic thing to say," Mystique snaps, offended.

Beside him, Magneto clucks his tongue impatiently. "Well, are you?" he demands.

Mystique glowers at them both, and then looks away briefly. "Yes," she finally admits, her voice low.

"Nice," Magneto snorts, and he and Charles bump fists.

"Yes, so, if the both of you can stop acting like children, we can concentrate on the actual kids," Mystique frowns, gesturing towards Pietro and Wanda.

Charles eventually nods. "I believe," he begins, "that everyone here would benefit from getting some things out in the open; clearing the air, so to speak." He turns to Magneto. "Erik, you should start, I think."

Magneto clears his throat. "Right. I ... well, I am here mostly to try and make amends with Wanda. I know that there's a lot of unspoken issues between us concerning her childhood. I would like to start down the path to correct those as best we can."

Wanda cocks her head. "It's okay, Daddy. I know I was mad at you for something way back when, but it's not really important anymore. I just. I'm kind of drawing a blank about whatever it was."

"How interesting," Mystique murmurs. Charles watches Magneto tense beside him, bracing himself for what's coming. "Wanda, what if I told you that your father was keeping a terrible secret from you? What if ... you found out that he had altered some of your memories?"

Wanda is still and silent for several seconds. "Really?" she asks eventually, her voice small. "What ... what sort of memories?"

"Like the ones where he put you in the crazy house for being psychotic."

"Pietro!" Magneto gapes at his son. "I wanted to ease her into it!"

"Yeah, yeah." Pietro sulks, his posture slouched, arms crossed over his chest. "You've always loved her more than me," he mumbles unhappily.

"What do you mean, 'psychotic'?" Wanda asks, glaring now at Magneto.

"Not 'psychotic.'" Charles suddenly feels the need to intervene. "Just unable to control your powers well. They controlled you. Your father did the best he could to handle them, but in the end, you were better off in a more controlled environment."

"Like a mental institution?" Wanda says bitterly. "Did you even come visit me, or did you leave me there to rot?"

"Of course I visited," Magneto insists. "And Charles, too. Every week."

"Yes," Charles adds. "I've files, if you want to see them, Wanda; reports on your progress."

"Wanda, how does it feel knowing that everyone you knew was complicit in your imprisonment?" Mystique asks. Charles glares at her.

"Really, that's necessary? Goading her?"

Mystique beams innocently, showing all of her teeth. "How inconsiderate of me," she says pointedly in sing-song. She stands, and then pulls open a small closet, rummaging around until she produces two gaudy, neon, foam baseball bats. "Now, Wanda, you take one, and your father can take the other," she says, glaring pointedly at Magneto and handing him a pink bat.

Magneto raises an eyebrow. "What are we supposed to do with these?" he asks, looking perturbed.

Mystique sits down again, steepling her fingers. "The point of this exercise," she begins, and Charles groans audibly, "is to work out your frustrations in a harmless way. No powers," she admonishes sweetly. "Every time you name something that angers you about the other person, you hit them with your bat. I saw it on a game show once," Mystique admits.

Magneto is still contemplating the bat with visible disdain when Wanda thwacks him over the head with hers. "You left me in a mental ward to die!" Wanda accuses.

Appalled, Magneto hits her back. "I didn't leave you to die," he corrects heatedly. "I brought you there to help you get better. I'm glad you seem to have more control over your powers," he says sincerely.

Wanda hits him again; this time, he briefly tastes green foam as the bat slides across his face. "No thanks to you!" she shrieks.

Magneto frowns and spats. "You're right, how inconsiderate of me not to abduct you from the one place you were safe." He turns and glowers at Mystique. "I should hit you with this," he says, brandishing his bat.

Mystique's eyes narrow. "This is supposed to be between you and Wanda," she argues.

"Well, but honestly," Charles chimes in cheerfully, "perhaps there are some other unresolved issues here. Are there any more bats?"

Mystique glares at Charles as though wishing his head would explode. "Maybe," she mutters.

*

Forty-five minutes later, the room continues to be awash in a sea of neon-colored foam and heated discussions. "You never loved me the way you loved her," Pietro sobs, and Magneto holds him awkwardly, even as Pietro's blue bat whacks him repeatedly. "You always thought she was prettier."

"Oh, honestly," Magneto says, rolling his eyes.

Nearby, Mystique and Wanda commiserate. "And I took you out of that place because ... because deep down, I think I wanted a daughter of my own," Mystique says tearfully.

Wanda pats her on the shoulder. "I understand, 'Mom,' she whispers sincerely, and Mystique lets out a sob.

Magneto continues to look unimpressed. "Really?" he says, frowning, Pietro now sniffling quietly in the seat next to his father. "She abducts you and you give her a hug. I provide for you and make the hardest decision of my life in giving you up in the first place, and you hit me with a Styrofoam weapon."

"You just don't understand how it is to have maternal instincts," Mystique glowers, still cuddling with Wanda.

"That's true," Charles interjects. "But all the same, haven't you already had the opportunity to be a mother? Didn't you throw it away?"

Wanda blinks, pulling away slightly. "I thought we agreed never to talk about that," Mystique says quietly through gritted teeth.

"Well, but you seem content to air everybody else's dirty laundry here today," Charles infers, smiling beatifically. "So why don't you tell us all about Kurt?"

"Really? Whoa," Pietro says.

"Right?" Magneto smirks, nudging him with his elbow, making them both grin.

Mystique looks about ready to set the entire room on fire now. "I wasn't ready for a child yet," she retorts, and her eyes narrow on Charles, set to kill. "And neither were you, Xavier."

Everyone digests this briefly. "Wait, so ... you're Kurt's dad?" Wanda asks Charles. "Where'd the tail come from, then?"

Charles clears his throat awkwardly. "No, it's ... Kurt is not my son," he replies, and takes a deep, steadying breath. "But," he adds, turning fully to face the children, "Pietro is. And Wanda, you are my daughter."

Dead silence reigns anew. "I don't ... get it," Pietro blinks.

Mystique's face is gleeful. "Charles has a secondary mutation," she explains, watching Charles shift uncomfortably in his chair. "And his dear old friend Magneto knocked him up, some fifteen years ago. It was twins."

Charles coughs. Magneto pats him briefly on the knee. "We thought, naturally, that it might make things more awkward if anyone knew. But, well. Now you do."

"So ..." Pietro trails off, still taking it all in. "So do we call you 'Mom'?"

Charles sighs, just a tiny bit annoyed. "No, 'Dad' is fine, Pietro."

"But he's already 'Dad,'" Pietro says, pointing at Magneto. He considers. "So is this why I'm gay? Because I think I'm gay."

"Of course you are," Magneto mutters.

"I mean, Wanda and I used to play around and like, kiss each other and stuff, but I never felt anything ..."

"All right, then, I believe that's enough therapy for today," Charles announces loudly. He and Magneto pointedly avoid eye contact as Magneto herds the children out of the room, and then shuffles away himself. "I hope you're happy," Charles says to Mystique, who is now filing her nails, her feet propped atop her desk.

"Oh, I'll be even happier when you get the bill," Mystique smirks. "My fee is two-hundred an hour, Xavier. And I don't take your insurance."

"Of course you don't," Charles sighs.


End file.
